Chester
Zoo is in the news. They're pissed off because people can go to parks
and beaches but not to their large, open air zoo. I think they have a
point. Also, if anyone can contain the stupid British public, then you'd
think an attraction that has a myriad of massive dangerous animals
under lock and key would be able to do so.
Me,
using Owen's synth skills to back my words, and as one half of Tingle
In The Netherlands will be on 'The Sunday Sermon' starting now. 2pm - 5pm
BST today https://www.mixhitradio.co.uk/
I
was sitting in the garden earlier and saw a robin, in the hedge
opposite, looking at me. I'm desperate to make friends with all the
robins, in the hope that one day I'll get one to land on my hand and
take a sunflower seed. So, I made a sort of a 'ts ts' noise to encourage
the robin and it flew across the garden, straight at me, then hovered
for a bit just in front of me as if to say, "What you looking at?" then
flew off. Sadly, I didn't have my camera - it would have made great
footage. Anyway, I think the noise I made might be a stressy noise, so
I'm going to try warbling in future.
I've
recently caught myself pondering whether the retail workers of the
supermarkets I regularly frequented before lockdown have wondered if I'm
dead. #NobodyCares💀🪦😆
Thread.
Sounds like everything that Jenrick does is transactional. Same goes
for the rest of the thin skinned charlatans in government. Our lives are
in the hands of these self serving oafs. https://twitter.com/JolyonMaugham/status/1276624617399103489
After
posting that status about getting up to stuff in other people's dreams,
I had that classic anxiety dream of going out without any pants on.
Owen wasn't bothered and didn't mention it. Typical. I wasn't that
bothered either to be honest until I remembered that they have CCTV in
the dream's locale, so I went back in and put some pants on.
30th June 23.56pm
I'm sharing this again because it would be a shame if you missed it..
While still in semi-lockdown mode, I've been trying to stop my brain from turning to sludge. It's probably too late, but rainy days, when gardening isn't an option, have provided an opportunity to get creative. Sound recording and music production aren't really part of my skill set so having taught myself how to use audacity freeware, I've enjoyed fannying about with music samples and random sounds in order to create backing tracks to go with some of my old poems. I've pasted my latest offering below - a 6 track album of sorts - an EP probably. I've learnt a few new skills en route to finishing this one, but there's a lot I want to improve on, hence the title.
This poem is better than I remember it so I’m posting it here, or maybe my brain is just getting ever sludgier. It definitely is, but these days, I think that is an asset.
I'm
too lazy to keep a lockdown journal, so I'm just rounding up my
facebook thoughts at the end of each month and now I fancy myself as
some latter day Samuel Pepys but lucky for you, I haven't written it all
in a secret code!
This
afternoon I spent an unecessary amount of time looking in the mirror
while holding an old pair of knickers up to my face like a yashmak to
see if I could turn them into a face mask for Owen.
I
had a cracking anxiety dream that touched all the bases and was
thoroughly enjoyable. I might send this to my friend who is a
psychologist after I've written it out here. Sit tight, here goes:
Owen and me were living in a flat in central Manchester. Owen had done a
deal with a local department store and they were selling his skulls in
the homewares department. They'd have weird, complicated special offers
on whereby if a certain thing was on offer, everything else in the
department would have some money off too. Owen had to make sure that it
was clear that his skulls weren't included so I had to list all of the
item offers that he was exempt from for the store. I went in everyday to
see what his takings were. On this particular day his skulls had been
sold at a discount because I'd forgotten to include wool on the list.
When I told him about the error Owen said, "You forgot to list wool?!
WOOL!"
Later on, the dream took on an apocalyptic vibe, somehow
linked to the current crisis. It was like the beginning of a disaster
movie where everyone's in a hurry to get home. I was trying to make my
way home too. One of the streets on my route was blocked off by the
residents, most of whom seemed to be members of The Socialist Worker
Party, so I decided to go up the next street running parallel to it. I'd
also lost my mobile phone, so was a bit antsy as I couldn't phone Owen
to tell him I'd be late.
On the next street, the sun was shining
and a group of Americans were watching a screen and laughing. Blanche
from the 'Golden Girls' had cracked some joke about a man with a small
willy and it was very funny. There was a woman near the screen who
seemed to be responsible for it so I hugged her and said, "I needed that,
thank you." then carried on on my journey.
Later on, I took a
detour through a pub and found myself a bit lost so I flagged down a
taxi. There were two people in the front of the taxi along with the
driver who was a cross between Norm from 'Cheers' and Jeremy Clarkson.
He was also quite sinister. I started to feel ill at ease, but couldn't
phone anyone as I'd lost my phone. I put my hand into my bag to keep
hold of my purse which was quite heavy and full of loose change. The
taxi was stationary at this point and the driver somehow leaned back and
was trying to attack me. The other two passengers had melted away by
now, surplus to dream requirements apparently. Anyway, a struggle ensued
but at some point I realised that I hadn't lost my phone and it was in
the bottom of my bag. The pressure was on now to phone Owen and get
help. Taxi man seemed to realise this and was leaning over and trying to
subdue me so I smashed him on the side of his head with my purse and
kept hitting him until I'd pummelled him unconscious. I pummelled him a
bit more for good measure and found it quite satisfying. I then got out
my phone and was just about to phone Owen, when I woke up. THE END.
Maybe this is why I'm not fully on board with the ever creeping
cashless society. You can't pummel a rogue taxi driver to death with a
debit card can you?
Getting
a bit weary of all the 'when this is over' whimsy making out that we'll
all look back on the current shitshow with something akin to nostalgia.
Fuck off.
I
think the local veg box providers should also offer a service whereby
they hide the fruit and veg in and around your garden, in trees, on the
shed, hidden in flower pots so that you have to work for your food and
get some mental / physical exercise like they do on monkey world.
I'm
still staying at home but I did nip out to the post box and walked back
and now I'm back in and not going anywhere. When do I get my medal? I'd
make my own but I haven't got any paper plates.
I've
got a bloody hedgehog emergency now. Hog in the feeding box, apparently
sleeping, had a wound on its head - possibly been strimmed. I've got it
in a box indoors, but it still appears to be asleep. It looks well
apart from the wound, so hope it's not too deep. I'll have to stay up
now so I can phone the vet and hog rescue in the morning.
Hog
update. It's still alive and is going to be taken to local rescue to be
checked over. I will be leaving the box in the porch for the volunteer
hogbulance driver to collect. I'm also getting a veg box later, so feel
free to write your own imaginary sitcom where the local hog rescue takes
delivery of a pineapple.
News just in. The #hedgehog
is a boy. The lady who took him to the rescue has asked that he be
named Joseph. He shouldn't need to stay at the rescue for very long.
Joseph
the hedgehog has returned from the hog spa. I put him straight into the
unoccupied hog box when he was brought back from the rescue - I saw him
later in the garden trundling about. No photos because I think you know
what a hog in a box looks like.
Potato
news: There are signs of life in my swing bin but I think the one in
the bucket has perished because of poor drainage. I cut the corners off
the bottom of the swing bin so there is a hole about the size of a 50
pence piece at each corner, so drainage is good. The bucket just has
some stones at the bottom and no holes, so no good. It's actually an old
milking pail so I'll have to ditch the spud and get a cow.
I'm
still reading that article but it occurred to me that I could reboot
that poem that I wrote, 'Why fruit bats should always eat fruit' and
instead of it being a basic healthy eating message, Fred's unsuitable
diet could result in the emergence of a deadly new zoonotic virus that
finishes the job started by covid-19. Sorry about this, it's just how my
imagination works.
I
was hovering over the 'like' button and all the emojis appeared and
started pulling faces and then I got a bit antsy because they're so
close together. I think I'll go to bed. 21 May at 00:00 ·
Is piss a vector for coronavirus? I assume it is. All the public toilets are shut to daytrippers, so...
I've
won a piece of art called 'Man with willy'. This pleases me. If you
like art, animation and satire, Happy Toast is well worth following on
twitter and facebook.
I made up a joke. One for the birders:
A member of the family Sturnidae, native to Asia, walks into a bar.
The barman says, "I'm sorry, we don't serve mynas."
I'm
in a bad mood now. The climbing rose that trails over the top of a
small juniper tree, then up into the hawthorn, got blown down and was in
danger of breaking. I've spent some time wrestling with it to get it
back to where it was. I'll spare you the details, just imagine John
Cleese in 'Clockwise' if he was a gardener.
I
just looked at the duration of the track that I'm listening to and
thought it was the time: 3.43. I then looked at my watch: 2.20 -
assumed it had stopped but was mystified by the fact that the second
hand is still moving. I'm not even drinking. How are you?
You
can all stop sending me that vid of a crow 'helping' a hedgehog across
the road now, thanks. Hogs out in daylight are usually unwell and
corvids will have a peck if they think they're in with a chance of a
free meal. Nature isn't as nice and kind as we'd like it to be.
Sentences
I never thought I'd write two months ago #9504043709340494294, "Kate
and Mike are coming round to sign my will in the garden so I need to
clean the bird shit off the chairs."
They
just said on the news that you can have people round to sit with you in
the garden and they can nip in to use the loo as long as they clean
down all the surfaces after. I've just cleaned the bathroom and toilet -
if only I'd known, I could have invited some friends round to do it for
me.
A
confused, deaf old woman just phoned. Despite me telling her that she
had the wrong number, explaining that she doesn't know me and that I'm
not Beth or Ruth, she proceeded to tell me her news anyway. I told her
my name again and reiterated the fact that she doesn't know me. I could
hear her turn to someone and say, "It's someone called Hannah," and then
she hung up. I hope she's not one of these new contact tracers.
